The Evil Within
by Kexy Kewl
Summary: There is more to him than what meets the eye. He is not a tragic figure, for he has never roused sympathy; but he was not always this callous. He claims it is a presence in his mind. I say that Freneskae is harsh enough to damage the likes of him. Much of the evil that he is comes from within - the so-called presence lets him tap into his darker side and powers. Sliske & Wahisietel
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: My second RS story. I and roomskape dot tumblr dot com started fangirling about Sliske and this was born. Check out our Tumblrs (mine is saiansha dot tumblr dot com) for more RS-related stuff, and enjoy and review! Thanks to everyone who commented on The Hands of a Mahjarrat - I received way more reviews - and all of them encouraging - than I had expected for such a small fanfiction fandom. I wish I could've replied to the guests as well, but your support is what counts!**

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There was a blinding flash, brighter than the lightning that dominated the stormy skies. And then a resounding boom, louder than the shrieks of the Muspah. And then there was only smoke. The Ritual Marker was one Mahjarrat less. There were no Muspah to destroy, no Mother to rejuvenate, and yet, Shyasana was dead.

No wonder our numbers dwindle by the day while the Mahserrat and Chelon-Mah finish off the rest of us, Wahisietel thought.

"See, that is the problem with you, brother." A voice came from the empty space to his right. "You think, and think, _and think_ , but you never _do_."

Wahisietel looked straight ahead neutrally, waiting for Azzanadra and Temekel to dismiss the rest of the tribe away.

"Let this traitor to our ways be a reminder to you all of your worth should you decide to go down the same path as her. On your way, now!" Temekel boomed and the rest of the Mahjarrat began filing away, some bored, some gleeful, some neutral, or some, like Wahisietel, merely otherwise preoccupied.

Wahisietel too began walking, not bothered at all by the fact that he still had a conversation to finish with his brother, or that the said brother was nowhere to be seen. He was used to having his brother speak from the Shadow Realm. He was also used to neither hearing nor seeing Sliske for long periods of time because he had to hide from the wrath of a Mahjarrat mother whose whelp he had scared beyond consolation by whispering strange nothings to it from the Shadow Realm.

"What has got you in such a huff today?" Sliske's voice echoed by his side.

"You know better than to sneak up and act like nothing is amiss when Temekel and Azzanadra are as angry as… as…." Wahisietel fumbled for a powerful analogy.

"As Mother Mah spewing lava?" Sliske suggested.

"Hmph."

"Oh, come on. Surely you can't be taking this pagan madness to such extent that now you even refuse to create witty analogies? I am disappointed, brother."

"Will you stop yelling into thin air? Do you want to see me on the Marker next?" Wahisietel swung around and tried reaching into the Shadow Realm.

His efforts were rewarded by a cackle. "Oh, don't you dare make this about me, Wahizzle. I knew you were attached to Shyasana. I knew you spent journeys on end talking to her. Perhaps if you had not been so selfish you would have spent some time telling her to keep her mouth shut instead of opening it in the first place. But _no!_ You just _have_ to learn theories and whatnot, don't you?"

Wahisietel snarled. "That is not my fault. She had a good mind, a sane mind, but if she was not smart enough to be more discrete, then just as well she died before anyone could raise a suspicion about me. I am far more upset that a mind with original ideas had to die and that there are so few of those as it is."

"There, there." Sliske materialised back onto Freneskae and patted Wahisietel's shoulder in a gesture of mock comfort. Wahisietel was not too slow to shrug off his brother's hand. "A pair like us is more than what this tribe deserves. As it is, I wouldn't be surprised if you did have your claws in sharing some of these theories on Shayasan's behalf with Azzanadra and the other overseers – only once you'd learnt all you could from her, of course."

They were walking back to the current site where the tribe was camping. The lightning, the bubble of the lava and the whistling of the smoke punctuated their conversation. It was tricky at the best of times to cross the perilous grounds of Freneskae, but it was especially difficult this moment when he was obviously deeply rattled while Sliske did precious little to help (as always).

"What makes you think I would do something like you would do, Sliske?" He schooled his expression.

"You are my brother, of course, Wahisietel. We aren't all that different when it comes to survival."

"See, that is the problem with you, brother." He threw Sliske's own words back at him. You think, think and _think_ , but all in vain. Not everyone is as manipulative as you."

"Not everyone, no." Sliske agreed. "But you can come pretty close."

Wahisietel let out a huff and hastened his pace. There was little point arguing with Sliske, especially when he was in the mood to twist and warp whatever words you uttered. He needed to think in peace. He needed to assimilate what was happening. The most recent of the Mahjarrat who believed that the Ritual of Rejuvenation was indeed a tool of political control had become a victim of the same play of politics. He was clever enough to maintain peace with almost every member of the tribe, but he did naturally have a less superficial bond with those whom he had discovered shared his ideas. No one, however, could say that he had anything more than a casual bond with Shyasana's predecessors.

But Shyasana had been different.

It had been noticed that these two would often confer well and often, and someone associated this closely with him being sacrificed also raised questions if he'd known what "traitorous ramblings" she had had on her mind. Just as well she was dead, though. While she certainly viewed the Ritual as a form of control, she was surely going to cry "heresy" if he'd told her that he believed that even Mah was a figure of legend and imagination.

But this turn of events made him question his own ideas and thoughts. He had nothing at all to prove that Mah and the Muspah were legends, or that the Ritual of Enervation was merely a custom and not a reprieve from the earthquakes and so on. What did he have to support him? Mere observations? Mere cynicism? This was nothing better than what the rest of his tribespeople had. It was as substantial and prolific as the charred soil, as weighty as the smoke.

He needed proof. Conclusive evidence. But how was he ever going to get that? Especially now that Temekel was surely going to keep a stricter eye on him. He had seen that flicker of suspicion in Temekel's eyes at the Ritual itself. He may never present his findings to his tribe, but he needed it for his own sanity of mind. He needed it so that at the very least he could declare that he wasn't being unreasonable.

"Have you been listening to anything that I've been saying?" Sliske suddenly piped up.

"You haven't been saying anything, Sliske." He said shortly.

"Oh, alright, alright, I swear I won't mention Shyasana again, if that's what it takes to get you talking. I also won't even suggest that the reason why you chose to talk to her in the first place is not just because she may have had a good mind, but also because you needed to get all the information on her as you feared that she might be a rival."

Wahisietel never denied that.

"So what are you going to do now, brother? Whom are you going to send to the Marker next?" Sliske asked.

They had reached back into the settlement. Both brothers went separate ways to find out if there were any chores that needed to be completed, before reconvening in the Shadow Realm.

"I need proof. I fear I am going as mad as these zealots." Wahisietel said.

"Proof of what?"

"Proof that indeed Mah and Muspah do not exist, that the Rituals of Rejuvenation and Enervation have nothing to do with her but the fact that we can't stand the sight of each for longer than one journey to a new settlement."

Sliske chuckled. "And why do you need this proof? You have never doubted yourself before."

"It is not a matter of doubt, but a matter of certainty. Without knowledge, I fear I shall be as misguided and no better in my approach to life than Temekel and Azzanadra."

"Is my word proof enough?" Sliske asked, perfectly serious. "I do not believe you are wrong."

"Your faith is touching," Wahisietel rolled his eyes. "But I need concrete proof and not the words of a trickster."

"Well, for all its worth, I do find your ideas more compelling than the drivel we were brought up on. But yes, proof shall certainly make this much more worthwhile and interesting for me to actively dwell upon. Any ideas?"

"You… you want to help me?" Wahisietel gawked. "Why?"

"Because you're my brother, Wahizzle." Sliske reached out to stroke the bone ridges on Wahisietel's head. His display of affection was not well received.

"Blood ties have never prompted such… loyalty. I have seen daughters drag fathers and brothers drag sisters to their deaths. Why should I trust you?"

"Well, you are the only one who can keep up with me so I find you interesting. Plus, you are the only one who can actually attempt to come up with a halfway decent solution to a problem. Oh, and also, you are the only one who will not actively try to kill me or send me to my death. And, of course, you can put up wards against me from trying to snatch you into the Shadow Realm. I can respect that. Are those reasons enough for you to assure you that I will not betray you? I hope you do not expect me to declare undying fealty to you."

"Don't worry, I know you are utterly incapable of providing the last one."

"Well, what matters is that you believe me on the other fronts, Wahizzle."

"Sliske, don't call me that."

"I have a nickname for everyone and everything. I shall be delighted and honoured if you return the favour."

"Very well." Wahisietel sighed. "What do we do now? I do not think I shall be able to go up to the volcano myself. I need to make sure that Temekel does not suspect my loyalty and faith."

"As always, you make the younger brother do all the work and then you claim that you're better than me." Sliske sighed. "Oh well, it shall be fun at least. But I need you to do something for me."

"Oh, here it comes," Wahisietel snorted. "I am actually surprised you didn't bring this up before. Am I actually having a positive effect on you, brother?"

"Oh stop giving yourself so much credit. It is for the plan. I need you to fake a Chelon-Mah or Mahserrat raid for me."

"What?" Wahisietel yelped. "Why?"

"Because things are boring and I need a believable reason to go up the volcano. Considering the success ratio of Mahjarrat embarking on that journey and returning, I find it hard to believe that the tribe would be happy to let its best Shadow Realm controller to go there without a battle-related reason. Also, like you mentioned, you can't go there either because you have to make sure your reputation is stable enough. But you can go scouting and stir up a tizzy and fight in the army. That shall not only ensure your safety, but also give you a reason to accompany me. Then we can bask in the infinite majesty of Mother Mah together."

"You need not have spoken at such length, Sliske. It might be better if you do not let others see how much you love the sound of your own voice."

"I can't help it, brother. But you should feel privileged enough that I am not asking you anything in return. What I have asked is just a part of the plan."

"Oh, admit it, you are just as curious."

"I am, but that doesn't mean I have to help you without calling a future favour from you. Now, we've spoken long enough. Farewell!"

Wahisietel felt himself being pushed out of the Shadow Realm and back into the harshness of Freneskae. The weather was oddly both boiling and chilling, and he could feel both temperatures hitting his body in highly uncomfortable ways. The weather did nothing to alleviate the worry and despair in his mind. If he were a simpleton, he would've said that he felt something twisted coming. If he were a zealot, he would've said that he felt a horde of Muspah attacking. If he were a leader or a politician, he would've said that it was the payment of all his sins and treachery being met out to him. But since he was Wahisietel, he would not say any of this, as he simply does not know.

He does not know, he cannot know and he has no means of knowing and this was why it worried him beyond reason.


	2. Chapter 2

The volcanic pools were in even more of a fluster. The waves of liquid fire were crashing around the rocks of ash, tearing them apart and reclaiming them. They leapt as they hit the rocks into the air and met the eerie lightning midway in a sinister embrace. A bad omen.

Wahisietel wasn't one to believe in the supernatural, but he would have surely been grateful for an auspicious sign. The last thing he desired at the moment was for a Mahwaji – born from the tiny essence of a Mahjarrat that might not have been absorbed by the tribespeople and the environment, and powered by the mating of fire and lightning – to come and push him into the swirling lava.

A shower of lava rose high into the sky and scalded a side of his face and bone ridges. Yelping in agony, he hastened his pace towards the site he was prospecting. The site was nothing remarkable; no defensive or offensive structures that could turn the tide, no natural outcrops that provided shielding from the elements, no other useful location particularly close or far. But it was close to the volcano, and that was good for what he was about to do.

Ash flew into his eyes and blinded him briefly. In his frustration he tried singing the ash further into oblivion, but ended up targeting his nose instead. Such a waste of power, he growled in thought. He ought to get a grip on himself.

He stood in the middle of the site, staring out everywhere, taking in crucial information, all alone – just like he had always been. But now he felt more alone than ever – not lonely, for the closest thing that came to loneliness for Mahjarrat was loss of power – but isolated.

Isolation was dangerous. Isolation meant the tribe did not need you anymore. Isolation was equated with being sacrificed.

He let out a huge roar of anger that matched the roars of Freneskae. "To the Void with you, Sliske!" He yelled. "To the Void with you, Azzanadra, you Mah worshipping ancient fool! To the Void with you, Mah! To the Void with you all, you scheming wildfolk!"

Immediately after his rage ebbed away, he began properly surveying the site, assessing the weak spots, the places where he could hide, the places where he could deftly leave a false trail and so on. The analytical nature of the work cooled him down further. Once he was done, he took a quick look around an in a grave, quiet tone that was quintessentially him, he said, "These obstacles shall not deter me. I will rise above them and get the answers I deserve."

He began the trek back to the current encampment. He was pleased he could get his claws on the scouting task before anyone else could. Not only had it helped him regain any trust that he might have lost, it had also given him ample opportunity to plan how he might stage a raid. Scouting wasn't an easy job – it required you to be strong enough to individually fend off hordes of Chelon-Mah and Mahserrat should you encounter them, remember what sites a tribe might have camped at earlier, discover a good path, and be accountable to the wrath of the overseers should the site not be good enough.

When he finally reached back and reported his findings, Temekel quickly charged the tribe to get ready for the journey ahead. Sliske caught his eye, but Wahisietel refused to say anything. He could pick up a few tips from Sliske about stalking and stealth, but he did not feel up to the conversation.

They reached the camp without much hassle. They spent a lot of time going about their lives, sparring, constructing shelters and swapping stories of battle. Wahisietel spent his time devising better ways to construct tools, shelters and defensive structures or whatever other duties the overseers assigned.

He did not mind doing chores like these – they required skill and understanding different from the skill and understanding required for fighting. Wahisietel respected hierarchies – and even if he didn't he would have had to – but it would have been more pleasurable indeed to respect hierarchy based on intelligence instead of that based on raw power.

Sliske did whatever Sliske does. He expected him to teasingly ask him if he would ever be able to conduct a fake raid, but to his surprise, Sliske never did. Whatever exchanges they shared, Sliske was brief, serious and to the point.

When everyone had settled into the new version of an age old routine, Wahisietel found a dark, lone spot during a lightning storm and went there. Everyone else was in a restive state – they had dulled the magic in them to the bare minimum in order to conserve their life essence. Wahisietel shut his eyes and tried to subdue his power to the point that it became difficult to recognise his aura. He subdued his power enough to make him untraceable, but not enough to stop him from fighting.

When he felt satisfied that his essence won't be traceable back to him, he quietly made his way through the camp. It was a long way out, since as a fairly high ranking person in the tribe he dwelled close to the centre. He reached the edge without too much trouble however and tried to find a route that he could use. Kharshai was on guard duty this time. Wahisietel knew Kharshai was more intelligent and resourceful than what the rest of the tribe gave him credit for, but he wasn't the most skilled when it came to guarding and fighting, and for that he was thankful.

Walking a hundred paces away from the camp, he shut his eyes before releasing a devastating bolt of power. Before the bolt could even reach his target, he sped away in another direction, steadied himself and released another bolt. He heard the sounds of the tribe roaring in bloodlust as he flitted away to a third location. A bolt came from the camp and struck the spot where he had been a few ticks before.

He imagined he could hear the sound of Azzanadra yelling orders, trying to find a way to fight effectively in the storm. Wahisietel moved on to another location randomly, leaving the charring from the lightning and the ash and lava from the storms to cover any tracks that he might have been careless enough to leave.

"Invader! You will stop!" Came a cry from somewhere and he was hit by an ice barrage before he could turn around. Wahisietel broke out of it before his assailant could do any further damage and cast a shadow barrage at him. The Mahjarrat had almost cast aside the spell before Wahisietel whipped up a vicious blood barrage and teleported away, leaving the wounded Mahjarrat to bleed out his life essence.

Wahisietel was upset at both having being found (though thankfully not identified) and for attacking a tribe member, but it had to be done. He was now facing the camp with the volcano behind him. Summoning up his power, he created a number of shadow beings that would serve as diversions and raced to the camp, throwing additional bolts around the way. His bolts injured more Mahjarrat, and he cringed every time he heard a scream of pain, but he carried on relentlessly.

He reached the interior of the camp and made quick work of the guard around the tent where the young ones would be holed up during attack. Hoping more desperately than he ever had, he tried reaching into the Shadow Realm. He couldn't innately use the Shadow Realm, but he hoped Sliske's training helped him this time. He opened his eyes to find himself in a dark distorted area with strange muffled sounds and knew he had been successful.

But that was the easy part. Now he had to not just pull other beings into the Shadow Realm, but also carry them all the way out towards the volcano. As if that was not difficult enough, the Shadow Realm twisted and distorted even more the longer you were in it, so he would have to apply his concentration to a lot more than making sure he wasn't traced.

But this was no time to retreat. He had made it this far; he had to continue. Not liking himself for subjecting three young children to this, he deafened himself to their bawling and pulled them into the Shadow Realm. The children started howling even louder from fear and he zapped them to shut them up. He would let conscience punish him later; now, he had a job to do and treachery to commit.

He plowed through the Shadow Realm, hoping against hope no Shadow Walker would come into the realm and identify him. He walked on, trying to apply the theories of navigation into actuality. A great weight started forming on his mind and he began losing his vision. His power was slowly being drained and just when he felt he couldn't walk further without getting lost or swallowed up by whatever horrors that lurked here, he pushed himself and the children out of the Realm and collapsed in torpor.

It was a long while later when he woke up. He was dazed and had trouble remembering what he was supposed to be doing and why he was outside the camp. It slowly came back to him. He wildly searched around for the children – they were in a worse state than he was but they would live. Slowly, ever so slowly, he raised himself up – more out of sheer willpower than anything – and invested the last of his energy that he could afford into creating a Chelon-Mah sigil. He flung it in the direction of the volcano tiredly and scooped up the children who looked like they were almost dead and began walking back.

He was almost crawling by the time he reached the centre of the camp. He took in the scene through a haze – he could make out that the camp was very damaged, but he couldn't take in the exact nature and quantity of the destruction.

In a hoarse, sluggish voice, he muttered out, "Children... found them… volcano… Shadow Realm… plan…"

The last thing he saw before the darkness claimed him again was the grim expression on Azzanadra's face.


End file.
